Beak Performance (Fangs on Ice #3)

1. One

One

Arne

“ A rne?” My teammate’s curly head poked out from behind his hotel room door. “Can you come in here for a second?”

A glance at my watch told me that we had only half an hour before we had to be in the restaurant. I was always early, but as team captain, I had a few minutes to spare for him.

As his captain… Yes, that’s why you’re eager to help. It’s not because Max Gruber lives rent free in your head.

“Yeah, sure.” Taking a sharp turn left, I approached the door.

Maybe he needs help with his tie again.

Max stepped back, half turning away from me.

What’s going on?

He waited until he heard the door click shut, then swivelled back around.

“What do you think?”

For a moment, I didn’t realise what he meant. His presence mesmerised me all over again: the radiant smile, his bright white teeth on display, and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

God, you are so pretty. And I am so screwed.

“So?” he asked when I said nothing. “What do you think?”

That you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen and that I am disgusting for wanting you the way I do?

“Sorry, I…” What am I supposed to say? How stunning he looks in that blue suit?

Max laughed softly. “The bowtie! I taught myself how to do it. I watched that video about a hundred times. I swear it made no sense to my brain. I had to pause it and rewind, but I think it turned out okay. What do you think?” he repeated.

Oh, right.

My eyes dropped to his throat where a cornflower blue bowtie sat nestled against the glossy feathers. Then my eyes drifted down to where his newly formed muscles stretched his smart shirt almost beyond its limits.

He took me by surprise when he stepped nearer. I had been too busy staring to notice.

“I wanted to make you proud,” he muttered, giving me a slightly nervous smile.

“I’m always—,” I began. My voice trailed off as our gazes collided. Our eyes clung to each other and refused to let go. “Proud of you,” I croaked, words failing me when feather-covered hands palmed my cheeks. His silky thumbs brushed my skin.

Time stood still. And for a heartbeat, we just looked at each other.

His lips were soft on mine, so soft and sweet. Another step brought his body close, enveloping me in his warmth.

It was funny how a person’s life could change forever in a matter of a heartbeat.

One second, I was the ‘Viking’: professional hockey player and straight but a little too picky—or unenthusiastic—to find many women to date. The next, my teammate kissed me, and fuck if I wasn’t so sure about my sexuality anymore.

He swallowed my soft gasp down, using the opportunity to slide his tongue between my lips.

Oh my Lord.

His taste made me dizzy and drunk. The feeling only intensified when he invited my tongue between his lips and sucked on it.

I did what I had been itching to do for weeks; I sank my hands into the glossy black curls and pressed my fingertips to his scalp.

It was the best kiss of my life, and I couldn’t believe I had to turn thirty-two to get it. Or that it was Max who kissed me like he knew exactly what I needed and how to get me to do what he asked.

I’d never let anyone take the lead. Never until now. And it felt so fucking good.

I urged my hips to his, desperate for some friction. He answered my plea.

Max was a little taller, again a brand new experience—there weren’t a lot of women taller than me. Yet, somehow I enjoyed being the shorter one. I enjoyed having to tilt up my face to kiss him. And the way he pressed me into the wall was so hot.

Why is he so strong?

I was sure I had thirty pounds of muscle on him. At least. Yet every touch made me aware of his strength.

Cupping my jaw, he pushed my chin down with a thumb and tilted my head to deepen the kiss. I had loved that first gentle kiss, loved the way he felt, and loved how he tasted. This fierce kiss? It set fire to my soul.

Max’s other hand slid down my back and rested on my ass.

I shouldn’t like this. It shouldn’t make me hard or horny.

His elegant fingers massaged my glute and pressed my body closer to his.

Fuck.

I didn’t just like this. I loved it. With a gasp, I broke the kiss, panting like a dog in summer.

“Max,” I groaned, not knowing what to say or do. But sure, quite sure, I couldn’t leave this room and pretend it never happened.

This kiss changes everything.

I thought he would keep going, and I wanted him to. I needed his mouth back on mine. But we had to be at the feast.

How much time has passed?

It could have been an eternity for all I knew.

“I’ll see you down at the restaurant,” I told him in a shaky voice. God, you’re so far gone. “You look great, by the way.”

Max stepped back from me, his eyes roaming over my face. Darkness swirled in their depths. He dug his teeth into his red lips. They were swollen from the scratch of my beard and our kisses. He didn’t look ‘great’; he was stunningly beautiful. My dick thickened even more, testing the limits of my smart trousers. I spun on the spot, fiddled with the door handle for a moment, and ran from the room.

I slid into a niche near the women’s bathrooms on our floor, hiding behind an antique wardrobe. I pressed my back to the wall so that I would be invisible to anyone who walked past and tried to catch my breath.

Max… From the moment I’d laid eyes on him, I had been intrigued in a way I had never been by anything or anyone before. Except by hockey, maybe.

Damn. His curls had been as soft as I’d imagined. For days, I had wondered how they would feel and had creeped on him when we worked out. I had imagined how I’d run into him in an empty gym—no idea how that fantasy had built up. It was my favourite. Just the two of us and the lights dimmed. Max put his hair into a half bun for workouts. Stray curls escaped it every time, making him scowl at his hair and impatiently tuck them back into the hair tie. It was the cutest thing in the world. Yet, in my fantasy I stopped him from fixing his hair. Instead, I freed it from the bun and buried my hands in the curls, springy and glossy with sweat.

That mental image had kept me up at night.

Up and hard. You’re still hard, you dick.

The rest of Max intrigued me as much as those pretty curls did—his dark, strangely active eyes, his chiselled profile, the plush lips, and his smiles. They were rare, but when Max smiled, it was like the sun peeking through the clouds on a gloomy day. I still didn’t know what kind of creature he was, but good God, he was so beautiful. The gleaming black feathers covering his entire body from the neck down had earned him his nickname from the team.

My raven.

He kissed you.

I am so screwed.